Relic Hunter

He was late and Marlin checked his watch, but then with all that was going on, tardiness was the last concern he had.  Four years of research had brought them to this junction, but now there would be a definitive proof. Europe was a mess.  Most of the cities had been brought to a state of ruin.  Paris was supposed to be torched by the retreating German occupiers with the assistance of the Vincy Government, but through some miscommunication  this did not happen.  It did not mean that Paris had been completely spared, but compared to Berlin or some of the German cities, Paris was still pristine and Marlin could see how in a short time the splendor of the city would return to its prewar condition.  

“I have found the Grail.  The Holy Grail.” Dr. Gustav Reneau told him over the phone from Rouen.  The connection was a bit difficult, but it was clear of his great discovery that had once launched a frantic search over the centuries and caused many to put their reputations on the line.  While debate raged over the cloth of Turin when some carbon dating was used to determine the age of the relic and the results reported was the cloth reputed to have been the one used to wipe the face by the women he encountered on his way up to Calgary, was found to be about two hundred years old.  If these results were to be genuine, the cloth could not have been the one used to wipe Jesus’ face on his way to his execution.  After discovering that the relic was a fake, Dr. Marlin Bartholomew published his findings which were criticized by many in the field especially from the scholars in Milan.  He answered his critics by saying, “I can only conclude from the physical evidence that this cloth is not the one used to wipe the face of Jesus Christ.” 

Regarded as one of the top researchers in his field of forensics research, he had teamed up with Dr. Reneau join in the same quest King Arthur had given to Sir Galahad in finding the Holy Grail, the cup Jesus used at the Last Supper to consecrate the wine, changing it into his holy blood.  There had been many reports of finding this relic, but each attempt had met with failure.  

With the pain left behind by the devastating war that had ended just seven months ago that resulted in Germany being divided between the allies and Joseph Stalin’s Soviet Union in an uneasy truce threatening to spark another yet another war in this troubled part of the world.  The world needed some good news that  included hope for the future which currently appeared  dark and ominous. 

Checking his watch, Marlin watched a train pull into the station, but this train was full of misplaced people who had been transported from labor camps by the International Red Cross busy trying to repair the lives shattered by the war.  Most of the people appeared dreary and solemn as they filed from the platform in clothes that were filthy and tattered. The steel gray sky added to the somber mood of people who had given up any hope of returning to the life that they had been torn from by the cruelty of the war.  A few of the refugees looked at Marlin as they passed, their eyes blank and their expression void of any sort of human emotion.  Most of them were walking skeletons and seeing children who had been unceremoniously amputated from their childhood, made Marlin feel pity for their plight.  What would become of them he wondered as they passed him.  

The war had not really touched him.  While some of his students went into the service never to return from places like Bastonge or Iwo Jima, places he had never heard of, but were not ingrained in his memory.  Much of his research had been delayed since the locations of the relics he researched were in occupied or disputed areas that could not be safely reached.  With his attention on other projects, his association began with Dr. Reneau after the renowned scientist declared that some of the wood taken from a site on Mount Ararat was not genuine wood taken from an ark that was supposedly resting there.  His declaration caused a great deal of consternation with those who were convinced that Noah's Ark had been discovered.   

“I have been in contact with some people who claim they know the whereabouts of the Holy Grail.” He had told Marlin during a lecture at the university.

“Many believe no such relic exists.” He shook his head.

“Oh monsieur, this does exist.  It will be hard to provide solid evidence with the country under the thumb of the Nazis, but there is credible evidence on the matter.” He smiled though his thick gray beard masked the upturned edges of his mouth.  

“I have cataloged what research I have found on the matter.” Marlin returned the smile as a gesture between two like minded colleagues.  

“Providing those brutes do not ruin the evidence like most of the treasures they get their hands on these days, we should be able to produce the artifact.” Dr. Reneau stated confidently.  

“I shall be open to join your quest for the Holy Grail.” Marlin shook hands with his new found friend who told him of his harrowing escape from France that included a treacherous journey across the Pyrenees into Spain.  

“In my suitcase was my research on some of the relics collected by the more noteworthy cathedrals in Europe.” He shook his head, “There were moments I thought for sure they would confiscate my suitcase.”

“Who is it you are looking for?” The policeman asked in French.

“A friend and colleague.” I answered in my passable version of French,  pulling out my identification card.  He took it from my hands and looked at it closely.  I wondered as he examined my identification if this policeman had been employed by the Vichy Government.

“We can not be too careful, you know.” He said handing me my card back. “There have been a lot of saboteurs this past week.” 

“I understand.” I nodded as he proceeded down the platform with a quick wave of his hand.

The train was now over an hour late and I began to worry.  Some of the tracks had been blown up during the bombing leaving large craters in the rural, rustic landscape where some of the finest grapes were grown that produced award winning wines and burgundy.  Such wonderful vintage I had missed enjoying the past few years when these wines were not available.  While dining at one of the nearby cafes, I had a light red wine that complimented my bread and sauce very well.  

The next train was filled with ambulatory American and British soldiers with empty pants legs and sleeves also with sour expressions on their ruddy faces.  Nurses in starch white uniforms pushed the wheelchairs of those who were no longer able to walk on their own.  A few of the more lively soldiers were engaged in openly flirting with the nurses as they proceeded.  

My stay in the City of Lights had been a trial of waiting in lines and enduring rude clerks and waiters in places that once had been noted places for tourists and travelers enjoying the pleasure of the pampered life of good food and wine.  Time had come to heal from the deep wounds of the war and though it seemed to be a long process, there was evidence the healing had already begun.  Children ran in the streets yelling and playing games they had before the occupation, before the curfews, before the gestapo scoured the streets, the round of the children at Vel d’Hiv in 1942, before the sound of heavy equipment rumbled down Avenues des Champs-Elysees, before the liberation ending the nightmare.  Watching them running in the streets, one would never know there had ever been a war until you looked around a burned out abandoned buildings that rose like ghosts from the boulevards and rues of the city. 

Professor Bartholomew had been searching for the Holy Grail for over twenty years, pouring through volumes of ancient scripts written in hand by monks in the monasteries throughout Europe, scholarly publications and texts, and other primary documents in hope of uncovering a clue that was missed, all the while knowing that scholars had already studied the same material and had not uncovered the artifact.  According to the gospels written in the New Testament, Jesus had used a chalice filled with wine, blessed it and declared that the wine had changed into his blood.  Many religious scholars agreed that the wine never actually changed its physical form, but many of the orthodontic beliefs tended to take the scripture word for word, and did believe that the wine had a transformation.  Professor Bartholomew interviewed both scholars and orthodox. There were also historical records of the Crusades written by some of the Templar's claiming that the grail was found on one of the nine crusades to the Holy Land, but once found, the secret was concealed and revealed to only those of the inner circle.

In his research, Professor Bartholomew contacted some of the members of the inner circle, but just as soon as he established correspondence, he would suddenly lose contact with the member.  Professor Reneau, he believed, was a member of the inner circle, but due to Nazi occupation had been sent to the concentration camp at Dachau convicted as an enemy of the people.  In 1942, he and a dozen other intellectuals who were labeled as communist sympathizers escaped into the countryside aided by partisans.  He found his way to Denmark where he paid a fisherman for passage into Sweden.  Reading his bio, Professor Bartholomew learned that during his time in Dachau, he was tortured and lost two fingers during a particularly painful application of a finger press, much like a thumb press was very effective in eliciting a confession from the victim.  According to the text, the device did not make Dr. Reneau confess despite losing his fingers in the process.

In the brief conversation they had two months ago, a conversation that convinced Dr. Bartholomew to come visit him in Paris in the first place, Gustav Reneau said that he was tortured to reveal the secret he had been hiding about the Grail.  He said that there were members of the Third Reich that were most interested in any evidence of the whereabouts of the most sacred relic known to mankind.  The more he thought about it, the more excited he became realizing that he would see this relic for himself.  Now that there was a tentative peace once again, he could envision an Nobel Prize in his future if it all worked out well.  From the ashes the phoenix would rise and his would be a household name.  He glanced down the tracks, but there was no sign of an approaching train rumbling this way.  A cold wind blew across the tracks, discarded newspapers scattered in the wind.  People turned their collars up to keep away the chill.  It was hard to believe that this city with all the lights and warmth from the lively music filtering out into the streets from the night clubs would ever get cold, but December was just days away and judging from the wind, another frigid winter was on its way.  

“It seems we are in for another cold winter.” One of the station masters said in French as he held his coat closed to prevent the wind from chilling him.

“Yes, it is already feeling a lot like winter.” Marlin said cordially as the station master scuttled inside where it was warm.  He wanted to call after him to find out about the delay of the train from Rouen, but then figured even if he knew, it would not make the train arrive at the station any quicker.  Marlin blew into his hands and stamped his feet on the platform trying to keep his toes from aching.

Lorries went rumbling past with crates and other treasures rescued from the Nazis who had a great appreciation of art destined for the Louvre where they had been taken from at some time during the occupation.  It would take a bit before the city was returned to an acceptable normal, but there seemed to be an all out effort to restore the city to its former greatness.  There were signs the debris left behind that was slowly being cleared away and blackened holes filled in with new construction of brick and mortar. 

When he heard a train whistle, Marlin turned back around and glanced down the tracks where a train was making its way toward the station.  A sense of excitement ran through him as it came closer.  He would be ready to snap a photograph of the object Dr. Reneau would have in his briefcase, the chalice that Jesus held at the Last Supper and passed it to His disciples claiming to have changed the wine into his blood thus sealing the promise of the New Covenant where in less than twenty four hours Jesus would bleed out at his own execution.  The world needed some good news after five years of horror and bloodshed, an object of hope and salvation to all those fighting for their lives in Red Cross hospitals and infirmaries where so many had died after consuming their first real meal in three or four years that proved too much, too soon.  Hearing about dysentery outbreak among the recently liberated masses locked in the camps throughout Europe.  Hearing stories of how the fleeing SS torched the camps trapping many of the inmates as a way to cover their horrible crimes.  He had seen the gaunt ghostly faces of those on trains headed to the Red Cross Camps that reminded them of the places they had left behind.  Many survivors spoke of returning to the land of their origins as the Zionist movement seemed like the safest alternative left to them since the homes they had been forcible taken from had new occupants living in them.  New occupants who were not going to give up the homes given to them due to the vacancy of the former occupants.

The engine sighed and came to a stop next to the platform.  The conductor wearing his black jacket and hat was the first to step on the platform calling out in French that the passengers would be disembarking.  A blur of faces went walking by, many with heavy jackets and scarfs to block the icy wind that continued to blow.  Professor Reneau stepped off the train with his briefcase in hand and when he saw his colleague standing there waiting, a smile appeared beneath his thick peppered beard.

“Ah Marlin, so good to see you.” He embraced Marlin for a brief moment.

“I am looking forward to your discovery of the Holy Grail.” Marlin acknowledged, but was bewildered when the old man put his arms around a young lad standing next to him on the platform. 

“Ah oui, let me introduce Jacques Montrand.” His hands were over the boy’s shoulder.  A young face Marlin guessed to Jacques to be about twelve or thirteen years old, the same age as his grandson Monty.

“Jacques.” Marlin produced a smile and bowed politely.

“Good to meet you professor.” He took Marlin’s hand and shook in proper social etiquette.

“Professor Bartholomew, let me introduce you to the Holy Grail.” Professor Reneau put his hands back on the boy’s shoulder and in doing so, Marlin noticed Gustav’s missing fingers on one of his hands resting on Jacques’ shoulder.

“I don’t understand.” Marlin shook his head.

“Jacques is a descendant.” He smiled as Marlin continued to shake his head.

“Descendant?” Marlin stared down at the angelic face of the boy with dark eyes and mocha tint to his skin, physical characteristics that were darker than the usual average French complexion.  In looking at him, Marlin could easily mistake the boy for a roma or gypsy, a people who had suffered along with the Jews in extermination camps. 

“You see the Holy Grail is not a chalice like most people are led to believe, rather he is descendant from the lineage of Jesus Christ. There is historical evidence that his wife and children fled to France after His brutal execution.  After a careful investigation, we found this boy, the last surviving descendant of the Messiah.  I have the papers of proof in my briefcase” Professor Reneau nodded, lifting his briefcase to eye level.  

It hit Professor Bartholomew like a lightning bolt, his mouth agape as he looked down at the boy whose deep dark eyes seemed to swallow Marlin up at that moment.

“I do not wish to disclose this discovery as this boy was hunted by the Germans, but managed to keep himself concealed in safe houses throughout the occupation.” Dr. Reneau explained. “We are in the process of getting him on a fare on a passenger ship to Jerusalem where the good monks will find safe quarters for him. The world must not know of his existence, because of the poor record of sacred things left to the care of humans.”  

For a moment it seemed that Marlin’s knees buckled as he knelt before the boy and then he brought his hands gently to the boy’s face and stroked his warm cheeks as tears filled the scholar’s eyes.  His crusade was over at long last.  There was no need for documentation, Marlin could see the truth in the boy’s dark eyes.   He had spent his life searching for the Holy Grail and here he was meeting his most sought after relic eye to eye.